The Meaning of Home

I recently returned from a trip abroad. It was a fabulous, exciting trip, possibly the best one our family has ever taken. We lived with family while we were away, so there were no generic hotel suites or bathrooms shared with strangers. It was lovely. And yet, when I walked through the doorway of my house upon our return, there was this amazing, almost indescribable feeling that washed over me. The stress of travel washed away, and I immediately was more relaxed than I had been since our journey began two weeks prior. What is it about home that can make us feel so darn good?

For me, home represents an anchor, a tether to the place that I can always return to, feel safe, and–to some degree–be in control. If I think about the stories I love most, home is often a character itself. In J.D. Robb’s In Death series, Eve and Roake live in a mansion, a veritable fortress where they can be vulnerable with each other, where only their true family–in this case, mostly treasured friends–are welcome. For Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone, the custom-built apartment that Henry built for her represents perhaps one of the few constants in her life, and, more importantly, is symbol of the very real friendship she has with Henry. It is, I think, one of the first true gifts she’s received since becoming an orphan as a child. Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse lives in her grandmother’s home, where so many important memories and events are based.

But, home doesn’t have to be a structure I don’t think. Instead, it’s that intangible something that makes us feel good, really good, about where we are, even when events are, perhaps, not making us feel very good. Home can be family, a special place, a beloved group of friends. So, how does this inform a story?

When a writer threatens, alters, or removes that special something we call home, they allow us to relate and connect to the characters who may, in every other way, be so very different from us; the concept of home is that something most of us share, so by using that commonality between reader and character, a writer draws us into the story in a visceral way. The reader feels the fear, sadness, or loss as home is threatened; the reader shares the happiness and joy if home is restored. But, perhaps most of all, it can make the story  and the characters’ experiences very, very real.

And it’s delicious.

Pamela Oberg

Advertisements

Author: Pamela A. Oberg

Pamela is a portfolio manager at an educational assessment company by day, writer by night. Founder of Writers on Words (a discussion and critique group), Pamela enjoys spinning tales of murder and mayhem, with an occasional foray into the world of the paranormal.

7 thoughts on “The Meaning of Home”

  1. Yes! I get it. There are so many “you can’t go home again” stories out there but there’s a reason they all resonate. Because there really IS no place like home!

  2. You’re so right! What a wonderful post. Great examples from books, too…I always thought Kinsey was so lucky to have that custom apartment (plus Henry as landlord…that was his name, right?).

  3. I do love the spaces writers create for their characters. We love traveling. My husband leads tours to Egypt. When I go, I love it, and also have some trouble with some of the difficulties, but coming home is just as you describe. Some tension you weren’t aware of melts. The tension to travel starts to build a few months later, but that’s the desire for excitement and a dash of risk. Home is safety and comfort. Or at least for me if not comfort, me imagining how I’d remodel if I had the money.

  4. So true! Our characters’ homes say much more about them. So much can be said by what’s in a character’s fridge or where their clothes are (hung up or on the floor), etc. Or the home they don’t have (Jack Reacher).

  5. Yes, a literary home. That’s a brilliant way to say it. And we do learn so much about our characters through their homes (or lack thereof). You’d learn a lot about me from my home, too. 🙂 And as a writer, what fun, especially if you don’t like the idea of actually moving, to create homes you might want to have (or imagine having) for your characters! Without having to pack. Or lift. Or unpack.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s